Chapter 7 – An Uncle Might Tolerate It, But a Sister Cannot

The fat woman’s expression changed. She spat out the sunflower seed husk in her mouth and pointed at Song Yun, cursing loudly:
“Where did this little wretch come from, spouting nonsense? This is our relative’s child! Say one more word of slander, and I’ll rip your mouth right off!”

Song Yun suppressed the fury burning inside her and let out a cold laugh.
“Your relative’s child? Fine, tell me—which relative? What’s their name? Where do they live? What do they do for a living? How many people in their family? What’s this child’s name? How old is he? Where does he go to school?”

Qian Cuihua had been a village tyrant her entire life, never reasoning with anyone. She didn’t care one bit about this sudden girl questioning her like a prosecutor. Instead, she grabbed a thick stick and waved it aggressively:
“You leaving or not? If not, I’ll send you straight to hell!”

Song Yun had already noticed the bruises on her brother’s arm and the handprints on his pale little face. The visible injuries alone were infuriating—she didn’t even dare imagine what lay beneath his clothes.

An uncle might endure it—but a sister absolutely cannot.

Without another word, Song Yun threw her small bundle to the ground, bent down, grabbed the laundry pounding stick from the basin, and started swinging it at the fat woman’s body with no hesitation.

Qian Cuihua hadn’t expected this skinny girl to actually fight back. Caught off guard, she was hit hard several times, yelping in pain. When she tried to fight back, she realized she was no match for Song Yun’s strength. Blow after blow landed, and soon she was howling like a pig being slaughtered, while her two daughters stood frozen, too stunned to help.

After over a dozen strikes, Song Yun finally stopped, having vented at least some of her rage. Her voice returned to its cold, detached tone:

“Don’t rush to yell for help just yet. The girl who handed over my brother—Song Zhenzhen—has already been arrested by the Public Security Bureau. It was she who gave me your address. Her parents agreed to pay me compensation, and I came here before the police to retrieve my brother. As long as I take him away quietly, you and she can avoid a human trafficking charge—otherwise, you’ll all be eating bullets.”

She watched as the fat woman’s face shifted rapidly through a rainbow of expressions.
“You don’t have to let me take him, of course. I can wait right here. At most, in half an hour, the police will show up anyway—and they’ll take him then.”

Song Yun swept her eyes across the curious stares from the neighbors and quickly judged that this place wasn’t safe for a long stay. Right now, only women, children, and the elderly were at home. If the able-bodied men returned from the fields, even though she had training in traditional martial arts, her current body was too weak. It would be hard to leave safely with her brother.

Qian Cuihua, notorious in the village for being a bully, had never feared anyone—but even she didn’t dare mess with the Public Security Bureau. Upon hearing they were coming soon, she panicked. Especially since this boy’s identity couldn’t be clearly explained, and he had visible injuries—she didn’t even want to think about what could happen.

She was furious with Song Zhenzhen, cursing her inwardly. That wretched girl had claimed this stubborn brat was her real brother, that their family was gone, and she couldn’t care for him—so she brought him here to be raised as a son. Who would’ve thought she had abducted someone else’s child? Now they were all screwed.

Despite the pain in her body, Qian Cuihua forced a smile:
“Oh, how did this end up involving the police? I was just trying to do a good deed—helping the girl look after the child for a few days. Who knew it would cause such trouble? I’m just too soft-hearted. If I’d known…”

Song Yun cut her off coldly:
“Is this what you call looking after a child?”
She pointed at Song Ziyi, her finger trembling with rage.
“Tying him up and making him wash clothes for your entire family? All of you are eating well and glowing with health, while my brother is pale and malnourished. Did you even feed him? Should I lift his shirt and check for more injuries? You people are worse than the landlords from the old society—you’ve turned my brother into your family’s slave!”

Qian Cuihua’s legs nearly gave out. In this era, if someone accused you of a crime like this, the entire family could be ruined.

She quickly began untying the rope around Song Ziyi’s feet, trembling as she pulled him up and gently patted the dust off his clothes. With a forced smile, she said:
“Don’t be ridiculous—there’s no rope, no injuries. We haven’t eaten yet either, we were just waiting for the men to come home from the fields so we could all eat together!”

Song Yun stepped forward and pushed the fat woman aside. She took her brother’s hand and pulled him over to her side, asking softly,
“Ziyi, is there anything you need to pack?”

Song Ziyi thought about his suitcase of clothes—Qian Cuihua had already sold most of it to villagers with boys, at low prices. He had a good memory and quietly told her the clothes had sold for 26 yuan in total.

Song Yun looked sharply at Qian Cuihua.
“Give me the money you made from selling my brother’s clothes. And the rest of his things—bring out the suitcase too.”

Qian Cuihua’s heart bled at the thought, and she tried to stall.
“Well… he lived and ate here for a few days. That’s not free, you know.”

Song Yun’s eyes went cold.
“Fine, let’s wait for the police. Then we’ll settle the bill together.”

She didn’t really care about the 26 yuan, but there was no way she would let these people profit off her brother.

At the mere mention of the police, Qian Cuihua folded instantly. She had no desire to be arrested. If convicted of human trafficking, even if she avoided execution, she’d be sent to a labor farm for re-education—and her family’s days of good living would be over.

Within five minutes, Qian Cuihua came out holding a small, finely made wooden box. Inside were a few of Song Ziyi’s personal items—toothbrush, towel, socks, and most importantly: his household registration document. With that, Song Yun could officially transfer him into her own household.

There were definitely missing items, but Song Yun didn’t have time to press further.

“The money.” Song Yun held out her hand again.

Grudgingly, Qian Cuihua pulled out the 26 yuan, regretting it bitterly. Why hadn’t she just been sneakier when selling the clothes? She hadn’t even gotten to keep a single cent.

Song Yun pocketed the money and took her brother’s hand.
“Let’s go.”

Song Ziyi winced from the pain in his back but obediently followed her, sneaking glances at the sister holding his hand.

This was the sister Song Zhenzhen had told him about—his real older sister.

Song Yun’s hand was still trembling slightly. Her heart was pounding, overwhelmed by the mixture of relief, joy, and anxiety.

Thankfully, the journey out of the village went smoothly. Although they drew plenty of curious stares, no one tried to stop them.

The donkey cart driver was still waiting. Song Yun hurried forward, helped her brother onto the cart, and climbed up herself. It wasn’t until the cart had gone far enough that the village disappeared from view that she finally began to relax.

She let go of the hand she’d been gripping tightly—and immediately saw deep finger marks on his wrist.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I was too nervous earlier—did I hurt you?”

As she spoke, her eyes fell on the bruises on her brother’s arm—long, harsh marks, several overlapping.

Tears began to fall. One by one, they landed on the back of Song Ziyi’s hand.

Her voice choked with emotion.
“I’m sorry. Your sister came too late.”